One of the hardest parts about growing up is what you leave behind.

It's a bit depressing, but it's true.

I'm staring down the barrel at 40 and I can say that things (at least for me) have on the whole been much better as I get older. My twenties were full of uncertainties and stress as I tried to make my way in the world. The number of interactions I wished I could redo or the opportunities I missed out on are, in a word, numerous.

The mistakes in my thirties were no less in number (which is a bit disappointing), but in most cases I knew what I was doing. At the very least, I knew there was a risk and I took it. And even if it didn't work out in my favor, I can look back and understand why I quit one job for another. Or why I decided to spend money on a vacation that I (maybe, in hindsight) should not have.

But in the midst of it all, I lost a bit of spontaneity and a lot of foolishness. I'm much less likely to spend money on a big purchase unless I'm absolutely certain of my decision and much less likely to waste money on things that I ultimately don't need or won't get much use out of. And while that's great on the whole, it does mean I miss out on learning from my mistakes and the occasional realization that some mistakes aren't mistakes at all. I count skinny jeans in that camp (not super skinny, mind you).

My entire childhood was spent no more than 30 minutes from the coasts of California. And while university was a transitory time, I never imagined I'd find myself living half-way around the globe hours away from any beach.

And that came with its own trade-offs. I traded what would've been a youth surrounded by friends and family I'd known all my life for one full of exploration and getting lost in translation. I didn't realize it at the time, but each day spent wandering foreign lands (in the literal sense) was another one that I wouldn't be spending at "home".

Then, of course, wonders of wonders... the foreign lands become your home.

From here on in, the reality of the story settles in. Jinyoung has returned home to find that nothing is the way it was when he left. He'll struggle to make sense of the world, the people, and even his friends. The ones that are still around, that is.

I find it important to think not just about what this experience has done to Jinyoung, but what it’s done to those around him. How his return has affected others. And how it will continue to affect them as the story goes on.

To some, Jinyoung will represent a fulfilled hope. A miracle that they'd long since given up on. But to others, he'll represent how far they've come and what they've lost along the way.

It’s interesting when you go through your old belongings and find something that reminds you of the person you were. It’s another thing altogether for that reminder to be a living, breathing person.

If you’ve enjoyed the story so far, or if you have any comments. Please leave them and I promise I’ll respond to all of them (eventually). I’ve never written a story like this before (much less published it online for others to read) so I’d appreciate any feedback I can get.

Thank you all for your patronage and I hope you enjoy the story to come.